Jazhara
Character Profile Called: Jazhara Used Name: Jazhara Antivar Born: Alix Lyssandren IC Information: Current Age: 39, born 1 Hammer, 1352 Attitude: Reserved to the point of paranoia, she tends to listen rather than speak. Often hanging on the edges of groups to study people, she rarely trusts others. Even among those few she does trust, she is rarely open with her thoughts and emotions. She has a long memory and tends to hold onto grudges until they die of old age...and then will celebrate on the grave. Appearance: Always small and slender, she has lost enough weight to almost pass as an elf. Elven heritage somewhere in her back ground shows in the delicately prominent bone structure which gives her dark face a gamine look. Her black hair frequently falls around her face in untended elf-locks. Large purple eyes which have recently taken on a gem-like quality dominate her face. The eyes and face are frequently shuttered, hiding her emotions and reactions to the world around her. Appearance, Part II (Equipment Worn): Though her clothing varies based on her mood, it always covers her body completely, leaving no hint of skin exposed. Generally fond of dark quiet colors, her clothes are usually well-tailored and in good taste. A helmet or deeply cowled hood shields her face. When she wears the hood, she also keeps an illusion in front of her face which deepens the natural shadow cast by the hood into impenetrable darkness. A few ridges under her gloves indicate ringed fingers, but beyond that, any jewelry is difficult to discern. Religious Dogmas: Everything is interconnected and cyclical. Water always triumphs, for earth dissolves through water, fire is extinguished even by steam, and air becomes clouds and then rain, completing the eternal cycle. The Water Lord is the great equalizer and leveler of the elements, acknowledging change but holding to his essential nature. Do not try to be what you are not; rather, excel at what you are and carry this message of personal excellence to the world. Be flexible but not unreasonable. As the rains flow down to the ocean in the folds of earth and not up mountains, so do the truths of Istishia spread throughout the land through their natural routes, not through rank force. The mysteries of life are to be enjoyed and puzzled over, but realize that some answers do not come in this world, but rather in the next. Realize that the cycles of life are mirrored by the cycles of fate; be prepared to pay the price or reap the reward for the actions of your past or your future. Life is a series of mysteries whose secrets are veiled by the Luminous Cloud. As the spirit transcends its mortal bounds and new mysteries are uncovered, a higher form is achieved and the cycle of life continues. Through contemplation and meditation, communion with the Lady of Dreams is achieved. Through dreams, visions, and omens revealed in sleep or the reverie, the Daughter of the Night Sky unveils the next step along the path and the next destination on the endless journey of mystic wonder that is life and death and life. Reason is the best way to approach magic, and magic can be examined and reduced to its component parts through study and meditation. Maintain calm and use caution in your spellcasting and magic use to avoid making mistakes that even magic cannot undo. Use the Art wisely, and always be mindful of when it is best not to use magic. Teach the wielding of magic and dispense learning throughout Faerun that the use and knowledge of magic may spread. Live and teach the idea that with magical power comes grave responsibility. Learn every new spell you discover and make a copy for the temple library. Do not hoard your knowledge, and encourage creativity in magic in all ways and at all times. Common Statistics: Height: 5 feet, 1 inch Weight: 90 lbs Skin Tone: A deep, clear grey Skin Texture: Smooth Eye Color: Gem-like purple Accent: Cultured, hinting of the upper class, but almost too careful. Recognizable Features: None visible when fully clothed, could probably pass for either a human, half-elf, or elf. Commonly Spoken Languages: Is fluent in common, Chondathan, Alzhedo, and elven, though she also speaks other more arcane languages. Race: Human Left or Right-Handed: Right Jewelry or Decorations: None visible, but always wears a thin metal band adorned with darkened diamonds on her left hand. Relatives: Father, Hassan Antivar, mother Jade Lyssandren (deceased), daughter Melody, daughter Nienna (deceased), daughter Kiele, fosterson Aren, husband Garen Gez'Alduran (deceased), various members of extended family. OOC Information: Current Status: Active Regional Feats (Concept Related): Greater Spell Focus (Illusion): She considers illusion to be more than a school of magic, but a way of life, having become adept at presenting others with what she thinks they want and expect to see. Greater Spell Focus (Necromancy): Determined never to be weak again and sure that the only way to do this is to be able to defend herself beyond hint of argument, she has done her best to make herself into a killing machine by focusing in on the death aspects of the necromantic school. Epic Skill Focus (Spellcraft): Magic and magical lore are her hobby, her love, and her obsession and she has poured countless hours into developing her understanding of the mechanics of magical practise in order to apply them to her areas of interest. Epic Skill Focus (Lore): After spending much of her adult life delving into old tomes and mouldered papers in search of obscure knowledge -- often merely for the sake of knowing -- she has become a loremaster, and is particularly knowledgeable in the fields of Netherese history and magic, as well as elemental water. Leadership: Three difficult years leading the scarred and besieged town of Trader's Bay have taught her not only how to emerge from her shell to take command of others when they are lacking direction and to channel their energies in ways she chooses, but also what it means to be responsible for others. She continues to exercise leadership both over the town and the budding mages under her direction. Current Character Levels: Wizard 23/Rogue 3 Current Character Alignment: True Neutral Time Spent in Myth Drannor: Nineteen years Areas of Knowledge (in progress 'Major Specialties:' Magical practice - theory, necromancy, illusion, shadow, divination Netherese lore - history, culture, language, magic (particularly mythallars) Water lore - water magic, sea lore, Plane of Water, water elementals, aquan Magical items - creation of items, famous items 'Lesser Areas of Knowledge:' Lower Planes Crown War Calishite History Magic not including major specialties Ships and shipping Religion - Sharran, Istishian, Sehanite Manners Fortunetelling Portals between Planes Drow and the Underdark - creatures, methods of travel, drow culture, drow language, Underdark geography Plane of Shadow Waterdeep Basic town defense The Anauroch Basic two-weapon fighting techniques Torture Gems and jewelry Stealth and countering stealth Disguise Languages Biography 'Family Background:' After the fall of Netheril, its people scattered all across Toril, some to found new cities while others simply continued wandering. One such group eventually made its way down to the great desert adjacent to Calimshan. There, they joined other desert wanderers, becoming only one of many nomadic tribes. As time passed, their heritage faded from the memory of even the oldest until they thought themselves no different from any of the other tribes. Like them, the Anfarim family religion consisted of a small circle of women, usually initiated into the cult at puberty, who worshipped demons. Then the Anfarim stumbled across a less common deity. She named herself to them as the Dark Lady or the Mistress of the Night. With her patronage, the Anfar women became powerful sorceresses, the latent Netherese blood manifesting in a talent for magic. All that was required to fuel this magic was bitterness and hate. Constantly projecting these emotions seemed a small price for dominance over the other tribes, but the sorceresses became more and more twisted with their dark power. They were feared and hated by all under their sway. Finally, after a reign lasting some hundreds of years, the subjects of the little kingdom by then known as Hasdrozaboth petitioned their Calishite neighbors for help in overthrowing the Anfar sorceresses. The help was granted, the Anfarim were toppled, and their citadel destroyed. The Calishites stayed and one of their generals declared himself Prince of Hasdrozaboth, in fealty to Calimshan. Under his rule and that of his descendants, arcane magic came to be feared and hated, as it reminded people of the sorceresses’ terrible reign. After two hundred years had passed, anyone even suspected of magery was condemned to be burned to death as a witch. It was in this climate of hatred and suspicion that the ruling Prince took as his chief wife a woman called Jhihana Antivar. Unknown to him or any other, she was a descendant of the ancient Anfar witches. In her children, the line of the witches mingled with that of the Calishite conquerors. With it came the Netherese talent for magery…and the secret worship of the old goddess. 'Character Background:' OOC Note: This biography includes in game events up to level 13. It is told from a first person perspective, and as such, reflects the perceptions of the narrator. I was born on the 1 of Hammer, in the year 1352. In the Upper City, that would have been considered an auspicious date, the dawn of a new year, time of new beginnings. In the docks, it merely meant that I was that much more likely to die of malnutrition or a winter chill. I suppose, though, that even then I was determined to live, because I made it through the first winter in good enough health. My mother was at that time working at Lorena's. I know that she had an apartment to stay in when my father was here, but he never left enough money to keep it while he was gone, so we always ended up back at Lorena's. I have never understood why my mother chose to stay there. She had the looks and the manners to establish herself in the Upper City. I cannot understand why she did not and it angers me to this day that she kept us down in the docks. My mother's name was Kiele, though I did not find that out until much later. She called herself Jade, which her customers thought pleasingly exotic, and which suited her, since her eyes were vivid green, large and slightly tilted. They were her most striking feature, and I remember them clearly, when all else begins to blur. I remember she was beautiful, though, with long red-gold hair and skin with a golden tone not usually found in humans. She was half Ar'Tel'Quess, though she rarely spoke of it and was estranged from her family, but the blood showed in her bone structure, which was angular and delicate, like mine, but in her it looked fragile rather than sharp. No wonder, then, that she so captivated my father. By the time she met him, he was already a traveling merchant trading in silks and rare spices, though he claimed that he was born to royalty in one of the numerous small Calishite principalities. I am not certain whether those claims held any truth, but his bitterness when he spoke of his lost home made me think they might be. He had a hawkish desert look to him. I got my coloring from him, and the family eyes that would stand me in such good stead later on. In any case, whatever else he was, he did not lack for money and he was well-connected in trading circles. He had already been keeping my mother for two years when I was born. I suppose that if there was any doubt whose I was, it vanished when my eyes lost their baby blue and turned violet. To return to my history, I grew up in the docks. I spent little time at Lorena's. Even when very young, I knew that I was only a hindrance there, so I ran wild on the streets, most of the time. I played with a group of workingmen's children and we made the maze of alleys along the waterfront into a land of fantasy and adventure. This is not to say that we did not see the grimmer side of life on the docks. We could hardly avoid it. From a very young age, we brushed up against the world of the beggars, thieves, thugs, and whores. We learned where not to go, because there were men who would snatch children, where the dangerous gangs were, and whose father was dangerous when he had some cheap zzar in him. Above all, we learned not to trust quickly or easily. Quick learners were more likely to survive. I liked to haunt the wharfs, because the old sailors there were often willing to tell stories or teach me how to tie complicated knots. I would stare at the great ships and dream of sailing off in one some day, away from the squalor of my home. Sometimes I could earn a copper as a runner, carrying messages or small items to and from the ships. In truth, it was not a bad life, though it worsened during my father's visits. He would always want to see me, so I could not escape the fights in which he berated my mother for bringing his daughter up in such circumstances. As an adult, I look back and know that was only an excuse, recognize the look on his face that said he enjoyed it, but as a child, I was sure that it was my fault when he hit my mother. I sometimes hated him for it, but I could never understand why my mother did not leave. Why she always just waited for him to come back from his journeys, knowing what would happen. I felt that she was weak and vowed that I would not be. Of course, it is seldom that easy. I was twelve when my father left for the last time. For all of his faults, there had been benefits to his presence. He had taught me to value history and knowledge, told me of his family – my family, he said – and all that came with it. Although valuable in the long term, those were less important than the material benefits that came with the liaison with my mother. He always left us some money when he went away and usually it helped us eke our way through the winter. We managed well enough the first year after he left. My mother took more clients and I earned what I could doing odd jobs. We did not eat as well and we had to do without some things, but we made it. Near spring, though, my mother began to cough and . . . *here a few pages seem to be torn from the middle of the narrative* to flee the caravan. I knew nothing about the Dalelands when I arrived, but I was friendly, and it was easy enough to gather information. Easy, too, to use my new magical skills to obtain money to continue my travels. I did not intend to stay. I met Pildril when I had been in the Dalelands only a few weeks. He was angry and lonely, and wanted someone to listen badly. I was willing, if only because I thought I could use any information I could garner, and it was obvious that I could use him as well. I suppose I did not think that I would actually grow to like him. We spent a great deal of time together, adventuring and exploring. Then one day, we were exploring the Underdark – a less than wise decision in the first place – when we were set upon by drow. Pildril fell and the rest of the group fled. Drawn both by curiosity and an unacknowledged attachment to him, I hid and followed the drow when they dragged his body away through the tunnels. When they came to a magically guarded door, I should have turned around. But instead, I waited until the wards dropped as the drow went in, then slipped in after them. It was a small drow settlement. I spent some time exploring, and then found, to my dismay, that I could not get back through the entrance. Lacking many magical resources and with my invisibility spells fast running out, I hid in one of the drow storerooms, but I was inevitably caught. I told them everything they wished to know. I knew they would get what they wanted anyway, and if I simply told them, it would save me pain. In the end, the interview was still painful, but certainly less so than it could have been. Afterwards, they put a tracking mark on me and then set a powerful memory-altering spell, which convinced me that I was a willing slave and loyal to their ilharess. To this day, I refuse to use enchantment spells. There is nothing worse that one can do than pervert the will and rape the mind. I served as the ilharess's slave for several month, as well as the plaything of some of her males. I had already learned to show what others wanted to see, but with the drow I learned to show nothing at all. I constructed what I called my mask, and hid behind it. I watched and waited and learned from the drow. Much of what I learned about power, I learned then. I was given greater freedom than most slaves, because my loyalty was magically assured, so I was able to roam the Underdark, and I learned it well. I was also in frequent contact with Pildril. He was kept much more closely than I was, and was in worse shape. He knew that I was not who I thought I was, and began to convince me that I was not the loyal slave of the matriarch after all. I began to watch for opportunities to escape, but did not wish to leave without him. In a way, it was worse, then. I could endure existence as a drow slave, but learning that nothing I knew could be relied on was very difficult. My own memories betrayed me. Like . . . *once again, the narrative breaks off abruptly, to resume later* was eventually found by Marley Brightlance. She offered to help me, and as I was desperate and lost in my own mind, I accepted. I sacrificed to the Lady at her behest. I still remember the feeling of the knife sinking into the woman's stomach as she tried to scream. I rededicated myself to the Lady, and in return, she healed my mind, though my body remained scarred and ruined as it was. As I realized all that had happened to me, my hatred was like a sea of acid in my mind. I was more determined than ever to gain power, and when I had it, I meant to destroy my tormentors slowly and painfully. I would use the lessons the drow had taught me to make myself stronger and I would not trust again. Thus began my rise to power. Link to Archived Journal and Stories Click here for Jazhara's journal and stories archive Category:PC